Moves Like Jagger
by SantoryuuFelidae
Summary: In which there is a club, alcohol, very giggly girls, and a dancing Squalo. Xanxus is not amused. XS songfic.


Title: Moves Like Jagger

Pairing: Xanxus x Squalo

Genre: Romance, my failed attempt at Humor

Rating: T, for kissing and swearing. It's Xanxus and Squalo, whaddaya expect xD

A/N: Hi guys! Wowow first KHR fic… and of course, it's for XS. Ok so this took me literally months to write. Not because it was that hard, but because I did it on my phone, and I wrote like… one sentence a week. And it's a songfic too, with a rather… unusual song for this pairing, I guess. But I'm finally finished now, so I hope you guys enjoy! :'D

Disclaimer: KHR does not belong to me. Nothing does /sob. Moves Like Jagger is by Maroon 5.

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><p><em>Just shoot for the stars<em>

_If it feels right_

_And aim for my heart_

_If you feel like_

_And take me away and make it OK_

_I swear I'll behave_

The air inside the club was hot, stifling. Flashing lights illuminated various people dancing and grinding, moving to the beat of the heavy dance music. The sound of laughter and the scents of alcohol, sweat, and perfume were strong, almost dizzying, making the whole scene seem wild and almost surreal.

Squalo leaned against the side of the bar, a Long Island ice tea clutched in his right hand. His normally sharp silver eyes were unfocused, mind working furiously. There was a reason he was in a seedy nightclub in Milan, and _goddammit _did he hate it. Fuck the mission. Fuck the Varia. Fuck _Xanxus_. He ground his teeth as a couple of drunk, giggling girls stumbled into him, slurring apologies and blinking coyly. Deciding it wasn't worth it to get mad, the swordsman ignored them, instead tipping his head back to swallow some of the Long Island, alcohol burning a welcome warmth in his stomach. Still lost in his thoughts, Squalo glanced at his watch, a sleek, simple black Rolex, chucked at his head for his 20th birthday from Xanxus. Speaking of which, his shitty boss _still_ wasn't back yet. They'd arrived at the club half an hour ago, and out of those thirty minutes Xanxus had been gone for twenty.

It was a relatively simple mission: Signore Bellacini was a rich, powerful, influential old man. He had many ties with important families in the mafia world, and while he could be cocky at times, he was generally polite to the Vongola. He was most useful, however, for the large territory he had inherited: if the Vongola could claim that, their borders could be extended by many miles. So in the best interest of his family, the Tenth boss (that scrawny Sawada kid) had sent the (bloodthirsty, homicidal, violent, and altogether completed unsuited for "social situations") Varia to negotiate with him.

Squalo cursed him to high heaven.

To top it off, Bellacini's two favorite things were beautiful women and fine liquor. He frequented many high-end clubs, partying hard even though he was in his late fifties. Xanxus and Squalo had been the only ones to come, however- Xanxus had to since he was the boss, Squalo was second in command (and damage control), and...well, Bel was batshit crazy, Levi was a creeper, Fran was too young, and Lussuria... wasn't even considered.

Now... they could hurry up and get this the fuck over with, but where the hell was Xanxus? He just wanted to get back to the HQ, but clearly the asshole felt like this needed to be drug out longer.

_You wanted control_

_So we waited_

_I put on a show_

_Now I make it_

_You say I'm a kid_

_My ego is big_

_I don't give a shit_

_And it goes like this_

The silver haired swordsman hissed as he finally saw his boss emerge from a throng of people. Xanxus was out of uniform, dressed in "party clothes": a dark red shirt with a few buttons open, exposing his collarbones, a black blazer, and dark jeans. His hair was tousled, vibrant feathers standing out against the inky strands. "Tried talking to Bellacini myself. Wouldn't listen to me; bastard's drunk as hell. Didn't respond to the X-guns either."

"That's why we're in the club, dumbass; 'cause we can't threaten him. Only thing left..."

Normally, the short-tempered mafioso would have just blasted a damn hole in the place and intimidated Bellacini into joining, but that would've stirred much unrest in the allied families as well as retribution from other mafia bosses, and even Xanxus knew that it was more trouble than it was worth.

Meanwhile, Squalo was glaring furiously at his boss, mumbling under his breath, "Voooiiii, why do you have to be such a _baby _all the time we could have finished this already fuck."

The Varia leader snarled. "Don't fucking call me that, trash. Any sensible piece of scum would have just come to a damn meeting, but this fucker..."

"Yeah, so you just stomped off by yourself? Without telling me? We were briefed; we knew he'd be under the influence. But oh nooo, you had to drag this out, huh? God, sometimes I swear your ego is so enormous it'd just crush all of fucking Rome."

Something in Xanxus's crimson eyes flashed dangerously, but Squalo, not being the sanest of men, badgered on.

"...Either sitting in that damn chair or being a flashy bastard and leaving me to clean the shitty mess..."

"Put a lid on it, trash. I don't give a fuck; one more word and I'm putting a bullet through your head." Xanxus sneered, "As if you're any better; always bitching like a damn woman."

"Voooiiiii! I do not!"

Xanxus snorted, derisive. Squalo scowled and glared at his boss, but shook his head.

"Boss, we gotta get moving. We don't have Bellacini's signature yet!"

"Eh. Go figure it out yourself, trash. I'm not doing anything else."

The shark ground his teeth, now even more irritated with his boss. Not even this one simple mission! He snuck a glance back at the mafioso sitting at the big booth in the corner of the bar. He was surrounded by at least twelve beautiful, scantily dressed women, soft hair tumbling past smooth shoulders and artfully done makeup accentuating their features. In the center sat Signore Bellacini, lazy and proud in his plush seat. From the looks of it, he was thoroughly intoxicated, normally shrewd eyes blurred.

Turning back to the Varia leader, he grimaced, trying to suppress the anger bubbling up inside him.

"Well? Go on trash, we don't have all night." Xanxus leaned back against the bar counter, mouth pulled up into an arrogant smirk. Squalo nearly snarled, lips pulled back to show flashes of sharp white canines, but... His attention turned to the dance floor in the middle of the bar, taking notice of the almost euphoric way the bodies moved, and an idea began to form.

_Take me by the tongue_

_And I'll know you_

_Kiss me 'til you're drunk_

_And I'll show you_

Xanxus could see Squalo's mind switch gears, a sly smile sliding across his face to replace his grimace; eyelids dropping to half-mast. He didn't like it. Whatever the shark had planned, it couldn't have been good; not with him being so smug. The Varia leader had a pretty clear idea of what his strategic captain was about to do.

As Squalo turned to approach Bellacini, he felt a hand in his hair yank him backwards.

"VOOOIIII! What the f-!"

His exclamation was cut off as Xanxus pulled him to his chest, crushing their lips together. Bringing his arms up to push the taller man away, Squalo only ended up fisting his hands into the red shirt as electricity danced between their bodies, back arching at the touch. The shark gave a low moan; mouth opening for his boss, reciprocating viciously, and the amused rumble that answered sent vibrations between them. Heat jolted up his spine as Xanxus' tongue flicked against _that one spot_ on the roof of his mouth, whining into the rough kiss. Squalo's breath came in pants as Xanxus broke contact with a nip to his lower lip, trailing teasing kisses along his jaw line, nearly whimpering when-

And the Varia leader pulled back, smirking as he surveyed his handiwork. Squalo was breathing heavily, face flushed, lips looking soft and swollen. He glared at his boss, cheeks burning even hotter as Xanxus leaned back against the bar top, leering, "What are you waiting for, dumbass? Hurry the fuck up," with a sharp, predatory smile. Glowering, Squalo turned on his heel and stalked over to Bellacini's booth, movements becoming smoother as he neared the table.

The girls snuggling with the older mafioso perked up as the swordsman approached, sending coy looks over in his direction and giggling. Grimacing on the inside, Squalo began his act- partly for the mission, and partly to piss Xanxus the hell off.

"Hello ladies, how's your night been so far?" Voice low and honeyed, he practically _oozed_ seductive charm. More giggling ensued, and Squalo grinned inwardly, pleased that he hadn't gone rusty (it was the 8th wonder of the world that he even fucking had it in the first place).

Business first, however.

"Voooii, Signore, you remember me? Superbi Squalo, Strategic Captain of the Varia. On behalf of the Vongola, my boss and I have come to make up," and here his smile sharpened, "for the meeting you _missed_."

Bellacini, lazy and sedate, hiccupped. "The landdd treatyYYy? I shought I already shigned that...hmnnrm. Those -hic- Vongololola..." Dribbling off into a stupor once again, Bellacini just waved a hand at a girl, signaling her to help him. Squalo sighed, placing the documents on the table, impatient already. Maybe he didn't have to go through with it if getting the signature was so easy... He could always get back at his asshole boss some other time...

One of the girls, a sweet looking blonde in a skintight violet cocktail dress, wrapped herself around his arm. She had big silver hoop earrings on, Squalo noted, but they were tasteful. "Ah, Mr. Squalo. We'll get Papa to sign your document, don't worry. But won't you dance with us first?"

Nah. He'd do it now.

_All the moves like Jagger_

_I've got the moves like Jagger_

_I've got the moves like Jagger_

The blonde, whose name was Arianne, and two of her friends dragged him onto the flashing, polychromatic dance floor. The neon lights slanted a multitude of colors across their bodies as the tiles changed colors and swirled into patterns, illuminating the clubbers.

One of the girls, a slim, short redhead clothed in a lacy black gown, took his right hand, while the other, a brunette with an impressive rack and heavy gold jewelry accessorizing her cerulean mini, took his left. Arianne had slid in front of him, and was now swaying back and forth, eyes closed as she moved to the beat of the music.

Goddammit, Squalo cursed. Would he still remember how to dance? It'd been so long... The last 7 years had just been running around screaming, dodging wine glasses, and slashing shit up.

Well, here went nothing.

Letting the rhythm wash over him, Squalo tried to relax and calm down. The DJ, a cool blond kid with shades on (who wore shades in a fucking nightclub? How did he _see_?) was scratching out some interesting beats. The pieces Squalo usually heard were tuneless, boring classical and baroque songs at those stuffy annual ballroom dances. Ironically, he would've rather been at one of those than here. At least he wasn't forced to dance. Racking his brain for moves and hoping to high heaven for muscle memory, the Varia captain joined the ladies.

Xanxus smirked. The shark looked like a total fool, being pulled into clearly uncomfortable waters, and surrounded by three pretty girls no less. While they had started dancing, Squalo kind of just kept up an awkward shuffle. He seemed to be having an internal argument as well, face scrunched up in a grimace and slow movements belying his thoughts. This was going better than he thought it would. After a bit, Squalo's face smoothed out, seeming to reach a decision. The swordsman reached out, grasping the flirty blonde's wrist and saying something Xanxus couldn't hear. He saw her nod, and all of a sudden, she was pulled flush against Squalo.

This was _not_ what he had expected. Xanxus could feel his temper growing proportional to the amount of time Squalo danced, and fuck if the y axis wasn't rising at an exponential rate. Where the fuck had Squalo learned to move like that? The swordsman followed him through high school (short fluffy hair, loud-ass voice that broke sometimes- _heh_), and once they were out, it was into the Varia for them. Did it happen during his... incapacitation? Even through his anger Xanxus couldn't find it in him to rue it because, _damn_.

Squalo was dressed in informal clothes as well, a black button up shirt with a gray blazer fitting snugly and dark jeans highlighting lean, mile-long legs. An assortment of belts hung off his pants and his usual boots, knee high black leather and laced up the front, completed the "outfit" ('VOOOII! What the fuck do you think this is, a party? We're going for the contract!' 'But Squ-chan, it's a club! Your uniform won't do. Now come with me, dear' 'Wh-!').

Every swing of those narrow hips was like sin. Each step the swordsman took flowed; smooth movements granting him a grace the other (inebriated) dancers lacked, even while grinding. Xanxus watched in slight consternation as Squalo raised his arms above his head, swaying sinuously to the beat. The girls giggled; the brunette having switched places with the blonde and looped her arms around Squalo's waist. The redhead had her fingers buried in that long, long silver hair (it was _his_ hair. HIS), pressed to Squalo's back. Even with the bitches restricting his movement, Xanxus was off-put by how _good _the dumb shark looked, sensually shifting under the dark lights- and fuck, were those maneuvers from his sword-fighting? How the fuck did that become socially acceptable dancing? With every bat of those long platinum lashes, the Varia boss grew ever more frustrated.

_I don't need to try to control you_

_Look into my eyes and I'll own you_

It was hot in here, Squalo thought. He was dancing, surprisingly, without falling all over himself like the fucking Bronco, and that was pleasing. He kind of wished he had a hair tie, and damn the ladies were irritatingly clingy, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. It was kind of like riding a bicycle, he mused while twirling Aria…Arie… the blonde under his arm. Once you learned, you never forgot. And while he did mess up, none of it amounted to grievous injury (these boots had _metal_, and their feet looked rather delicate in those schmancy, 6 inch heels). If he broke a toe or two, he doubted Bellacini would be pleased.

Remembering Xanxus (not that one ever really forgot a homicidal motherfucker like him, but between the flashing lights and frantic recall of dance moves, well…), Squalo turned his head, looking for black hair and feathers by the bar.

He had his eyes closed as he tipped his head back for a drink, which pissed Squalo off (hey, there was a _reason _he was doing this you know), but when he finished the gulp, they locked eyes. And Squalo nearly shivered, because those crimson eyes were burning, hot and intense, powered with something like the rage he followed but more sensual. He couldn't look away, couldn't even close his eyes, as that red gaze bored into him. All of a sudden, every move was for his boss. Every grind, every thrust was no longer against the girls clutching at him, but just for that scarlet stare. Even when he turned around or span for a second, he could feel Xanxus sweep over his body. Suddenly, the room was hotter, each step lighter, the noise seemed to muffle, and all he could concentrate on were those blazing eyes.

Well, since he so clearly had Xanxus' attention, he wasn't going to back down from a challenge. He had been dancing chastely; not really getting into the grinding, just half-assedly trying to piss Xanxus off and wondering why the fuck he was still here. Now, however, all bets were off. A riled up boss was the best to mess with.

_With them moves like Jagger_

_I've got the moves like Jagger_

_I've got the moves like Jagger_

He sped up, smirking a little as the music switched to something techno; a faster beat. Perfect. Although he didn't exactly know what he was doing anymore, limited repertoire of dance moves already taxed by inexperience, he knew it caught attention. As the music thumped, he began weaving in more swordfighting- dodges, turns, lunges, sidesteps- in battle they were rough, deadly, trained to kill, but here Squalo smoothed them out, took liquid steps and sweeping arm movements. It fit, he thought. Like a shark in a frenzy.

The girls had stopped hanging on to him, instead dancing at his side and occasionally initiating contact- bumping shoulders, grinding here and there- but mostly staying out of the way. Squalo guessed it was because they recognized swordfighting when they saw it (hey, they were mafia chicks), and were either being careful or amused by his substitution.

He heard girlish laughter, and "Oh, Mr. Squalo!", and that was all the warning he got before a hand gripped his arm, so hard it almost hurt, and he was spun around.

"The fuck are you doing, bitch?"

"VVOOOIII! Who are you calling bitch, fuckass!" Xanxus stood in front of him, face lit up and changing colors from the glowing dance floor and expression in a sneer. He looked both condescending and apathetic (the most annoying combination), but Squalo could tell his eyes still held some of that earlier fire, burning in the depths of his irides.

"I thought you were the one that wanted to get out of the club. Is the damn contract signed or not? I'm tired of waiting for your sorry ass."

"Fine, fine! You seemed to be occupied enough with that margarita you were having. Leggo of me and I'll get the contract."

Instead of releasing his arm, the bastard instead dragged him over to Bellacini's booth, pushing him forward. He got an earful of giggles (again) before a hand with perfectly manicured nails pushed the papers into his palm, the crisp (if not a little loopy) signature clear on the front. Then they were off again, Xanxus practically towing him out the door.

Squalo opened his mouth to voice his many complaints, but what came out was "Voi! What gives, bo-mmph!" before he was promptly pushed against the alley wall next to the bar, a hand in his hair and lips sealing his. He tasted mangos and strong tequila, remnants of the margarita, and underneath that, a spicy, musky undercurrent that was Xanxus. The kiss was violent, lips being bitten and tongues fighting for domination, just like their daily interaction. They continued until Squalo couldn't fight the need for air anymore and broke apart. Leaning against the brick wall, a little breathless, long hair mussed and forehead pressed to his boss', Squalo snickered.

"Heh. You liked that, didn't you."

"Shut up, trash." Grumbling (with lots of profanities mixed in), Xanxus buried his face into the crook of Squalo's neck and started to give him a vicious hickey that both hurt like a bitch and turned him on at the same time. Letting out a short laugh before tugging Xanxus back up into another kiss, Squalo thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad to revisit those dance classes.

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><p>As always, please review guys! I'd love critique as well, but even a short review will be very much appreciated<p> 


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